We Will Remember Them
by Tinkerpanda
Summary: Sam remembers the people he's lost in his life.  Remembrance Day Flashpoint.


Hey guys! Sorry I've been a tad absent these last few weeks. Midterms. They're killing me. Anyway, I just thought I'd pen something out. I figured Remembrance Day would be a really important day for Sam, having lost both friends in the army and the police force. It might bring back some really painful memories of loss. And I'm a big wimp for angsty-angsty-hurt-Sam.

As per usual, I own absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. D:

**...**

Trumpets blared the old familiar tune. And as the crowd bowed their heads, shivering in the harsh November breeze in eerie silence, Sam steeled himself against the wave of memory.

**...**

_You gonna make me say it? All right. Chris Geordie found him. Own firearm and everything._

He knew. But, suddenly, he wished he'd never dialed that number at all. He wished he didn't have to think about his friend and the ultimate decision he'd made to end his life. He wished he could have thought of him, forever, as just plain old Dave. The guy who always had his back.

And now he'd think: what could he have done? Why did he put the gun to his forehead and pull the trigger? Why had he abandoned his team? If Sam had been there, with his old team, would he have been able to stop it?

He'd never know.

_You give up like that, you don't mean anything to us anymore._

Except he did. Another ghost in the closet, another memory from a past life.

_Own firearm and everything._

_**...**  
_

_Clear to Fire, Braddock._

Sun beating down on his back, a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. He lay, unmoving on the hard, packed red earth, eye pressed to the scope. His crosshairs framed on the small burred figures, dinstguishable from the ground around them only by their small movements. His finger rested against the metal trigger. His breathing was slow and regulated.

_Clear to Fire Braddock._

The gun tremored in his hand as each shot blasted out of his rifle. Pop, pop, pop. He counted the rounds in his head. Each of them was a life lost. Only later would he find out it had been a friend.

_Clear to Fire_.

**_..._**

_I hate you forever, Samuel Grant Braddock. I'll hate you forever and ever and ever._

She'd said those words to him the day before she'd died.

And they'd stuck. Like the image of her lifeless body on the pavement, the shocking white of her blonde hair on the black road. The red of blood, hers, on the mangled car frame. The angry hiss of metal on gravel as the car hopped the curb and the sobbing of the driver who hadn't managed to steer away from the two kids on the corner when his car had slipped into that dangerous skid.

And her words echoing in his head.

_I hate you forever. Forever and ever and ever._

_**...**_

_Fall back. Fall back now. Take cover!_

But it was already too late. Jules' body jerked with the impact of the bullet, sending her small frame toppling to the ground. He ran, the shield bouncing on his arm. Crouching over her, he desperately shouted into his headpiece, trying to prop the metal barrier up around her body while pressing down on the wound. Blood pumped out, wet and sticky against his hands. The metallic ping of bullets ricochetting off his shield resounded in his ears. Jules' breath gargled, caught in her throat as she struggled to speak, or even breathe.

She couldn't die. She couldn't leave him. Not before he'd told her. He'd never told anyone he'd love them before. Not like this. She couldn't die. Not when he'd just figured it out.

_Stay with me Jules_. He urged.

_Stay with me._

_**... **  
_

_Scorpio_

Kovacs crumpled in front of him. A kid, lost and confused. Alone in the world. Angry. Betrayed. Somebody tormented by loss. Haunted by 'what ifs'. Somebody who'd given anything to switch places with his friend. Somebody who felt guilty for the death of somebody he'd sworn to protect.

He'd been the same. Instead of throwing himself into drugs or booze, like some had, he'd thrown himself into the SRU. He'd wanted to save lives. Make up for the ones he'd taken. The most important one: Matt.

_Scorpio_

Another life snuffed.

**...**

_It's been glued shut. I can't even touch it._

With that he knew his teammate was gone.

He'd seen it before. Felt the hot blast of air. The dizzying white light. The silence that fades into that loud, drilling buzz. He'd seen them in action. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing that could be said.

He'd know, in that instance, his teammate was gone. That there was nothing that they could do to save him. And it hurt more than any loss he'd experience before because of the simple fact that he couldn't help. He couldn't save him. None of them could.

_It's going to be okay. _

_**...**  
_

The music swelled again and the people looked up from their carefully clasped hands.

"_We want to thank the men and women who laid down their lives for the principle of freedom. Those people who fought on the beaches of Normandy, the seas of the Pacific, the sands of Afghanistan. To those who served in Rwanda, Somalia and Bosnia. To those who seek, where there is injustice, to end the suffering of others. To those who serve our country daily in the efforts to protect its citizens from harm. We thank you."_

Sam knew about sacrifice. He knew about choice. He knew pain and death. He knew them all intimately.

Every day he'd put his life on the line. And that he was lucky to be alive when so many others weren't.

Each person he'd known, loved and lost had given him a gift. From Dave, humility. From his Sister, hope. From Matt, the kind of brothership he'd never known before in his life. And from Lou, quite, knowing, down-to-earth Lou, the knowledge that true friends can overlook your past mistakes and accept you for who you are. He, and the rest of Team One, had shown him the kind of brotherly affection he thought he'd never again feel after losing Matt.

Tilting back his head a little, he stared up into the vast and unclouded blue sky.

_Thank You_.


End file.
